Breakneck
by ForeverDarkly
Summary: Being in the spot light can give you one hell of a nasty burn. And Ridley Bishop burns easily. That's why she avoids it, unlike certain people in her life who thrive on it. But when she lets Bruce Wayne into her life, she's right where she hates to be.
1. Gallery

**Hey guys! This is my first time ever playing with something Batman related, so try to be gentle. I have no clue where the idea for this story came from, but it just hit me out of blue and made me go find my **_**Batman Begins **_**dvd. So, after watching it a couple times, I got this. Like a good handful of stories I've read here, the story takes place after **_**BB **_**and I have no idea where it is compared to **_**The Dark Knight. **_**But that movie isn't out yet, so I'm not worrying. Before I let you guys go read, I have my lil' quick disclaimer. I only own Ridley, the Bishop family and of course all those who you don't recongize. Everything else belongs to other people who actually get paid big bucks to do this kinda thing. haha. So, I hope you guys like this first chapter. Let me know what you think. --B.E**

* * *

**Breakneck  
Chapter One- Gallery **

There was something soothing about mixing paint to get new colors and then slapping them onto a blank canvas in large textured blobs. Humming softly along with the radio on the other side of the room, Ridley chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she smeared the greenish-purple mix across the surface of her soon to be newest painting. It was off, the color looked good but there was something missing. She was going for a dark and murky theme since she had been inspired by one of the few dingy clumps of trees out in Gotham Square Park. It was Gotham; everything was dark, murky and teetering on the edge of spooky. The color had to be right. She huffed as she looked back at the swirl of paint on her pallet; it looked more like a nasty bruise than those trees she saw earlier.

"More brown maybe?" She muttered to herself, reaching for a different tube of paint as a loud guitar riff tore through the air around her. A minute later, she seemed happier with the color and applied it to the next pencil outlined section of soon to be forest. Slowly the glob of dark muddy purplish-brown began to go from a smudgy shape to looking like trees; something Ridley was actually very proud of. She had been so caught up with work that she had barely any time to paint lately.

"Ridley!" Turning too fast on her bare heel, her wooden pallet nearly fell out of her hand and dark eyes flew over to the door. In the doorway to the small studio, with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips and pushing her hair out of her face stood her receptionist Paige Walker. The young woman had been working for Ridley and her partner Arielle McBride since the two first opened their art gallery. Ridley was the creative side of the business while Arielle was the work side, she took care of all the 'behind the scenes' work. Also known as the stuff Ridley hated to do, like paper work and paying bills.

"That better be the greatest thing you've ever painted because I've been calling you for ten minutes. I even turned the music off." Paige joked, looking up at her boss.

"I hope it's the best, I've been looking for a masterpiece." Ridley said, joking right back, as she walked over to the large dry sink and reached for a damp sponge to wrap up along with her freshly poured out paint. There was no point in washing off the pallet and wasting everything; she'd only be back in the studio in a half hour or so. "So, what's up?"

"Downstairs in the main gallery, there's an umh…customer." Paige said, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. What was that all about, Ridley wondered as she dried her hands on a piece of paper towel. "Yeah….downstairs. He's downstairs."

Of course they had men come into the gallery all the time, looking for something different and unique for that important woman in their lives or they'd come in, well more like dragged in, by their wives and played along by 'oh-ing' and 'ahh-ing' at pieces. But in the six years Paige had been working for Bishop and Bride Galleries, Ridley had never seen her act that way before. She was acting like a school girl with a crush. Eyeing her carefully, Ridley placed a hand on her hip and arched an eye brow at her.

"Paige, who's downstairs?"

"Umh…you should go see for yourself." Was all Paige said, before disappearing in a fit of giggles and a bright pink blush. From where she stood, Ridley could hear Paige's high heels clacking against the wrought iron steps that made up the spiral stair case and then turned back to her damp canvas. Sighing, Ridley rolled her eyes as she stepped back into the shoes she had abandoned earlier—she painted barefoot—and then did as Paige had said.

Stepping down off the bottom step and then into the gallery; the second floor was all offices and the studio, Ridley saw the customer Paige had mentioned. Well, it had to be the same person, seeing as he was the only person in there. The man was standing at the far end of the gallery as if he had stopped the moment he walked in and was starring up at one of Ivy Pierce's paintings. The large canvas he was looking at had been up on that wall for months. Ridley had been telling Ivy that it no one was buying it because it was too big and they didn't have the wall space; she didn't have the heart to tell her the real reason why it was still there.

As she walked across the polished hardwood floor, her high heels clacked loudly and echoed throughout the open space. Her eyes stayed trained on the man as she crossed the gallery. He looked like he had just stepped out of a business meeting in his dark suit, tie and black trench coat. His hands were jammed into his pockets as he stared up. Bringing her fist to her mouth, Ridley coughed into her hand and smirked when he turned to face her. Only the smirk was quickly replaced by wide eyed shock. No wonder Paige was acting strange, it wasn't everyday that the Prince of Gotham walked into the gallery.

"Please tell me you're Ridley, the other young woman…"

"Paige, my receptionist."

"…Paige said she had to go get you. It was really hard to make out what she was saying amidst all the giggling." He said, a small smile on his face as if he wasn't bothered by Paige's actions. Ridley was though; she had been very unprofessional with him.

"Believe me Mr. Wayne, she's never acted like that before. I'll have to talk to her." Ridley said, trying to sound as professional as she could to make up for Paige.

"You know who I am, but I didn't catch your name, Miss…?"

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I'm Ridley Bishop." She said, feeling a little stupid for not introducing herself before when he asked if she was who Paige went to find. "Just like Paige promised." Mr. Wayne smirked softly at her.

"Bishop? Like the name out front?"

"One and the same, Mr. Wayne." His smile twitched a little. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"Please, don't call me sir. I'm still having a hard enough time with Mr. Wayne." Ridley smiled, she didn't know playboys now came with a humble streak, very interesting. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Mayor Joseph Bishop, would you?"

"He's my father, but I have a feeling you already know that, don't you? Wayne Enterprises does some business with Bishop Industries, so you must know."

"Your father does have a tendency for talking about his children…"

"You mean he brags about the three of us." Ridley scoffed. She hated when he did that.

"Well, having a highly recommended lawyer, an artist and a model as his daughters, I'd say that's something to brag about. I don't see anything wrong with that."

"As long as someone agrees with him, I've only told him a hundred times not to, but hey…he does it anyways." She said, trying to keep the smile on her face and stop herself from rambling, like she was. "So, Mr. Wayne, are you interested in anything you've seen so far?"

"Yes, actually. I stopped in the other night." Ridley's brows furrowed. She hadn't seen him the night before; if she had she most certainly would have remembered. "I think I spoke to your partner Miss McBride. She was working late the other night."

"She was filing out shipment paper work; she told me that she was staying late. I couldn't hang around; I was having dinner with my father."

"Yes, she said you had somewhere to be. But she told me to come back and make sure I talk to Ridley." Nodding at him, Ridley clapped her hands together and glanced around the gallery.

"So, what were you looking at?"

After taking a closer look at the three pieces, Ridley was actually surprised to see which pieces he had picked out: the one of Ivy's he had been looking at when he first walked in, and then two more from two of her regular clients. Rarely did any of her customers buy more than one piece at a time; there was the occasional two pieces, but never three. A swell of pride bubbled up in her chest, if Bruce Wayne was buying from her gallery; it was finally getting the notice it needed. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him reach into his suit jacket and pulled something out of his pocket. Something that looked strangely like a check book.

"So Miss Bishop, who do I make the check out to?" Startled, Ridley blinked a few times and then let the words sink in. He really did want to buy the pieces they had looked at. Biting her bottom lip, she looked away from him and raked a hand through her hair. "Is something the matter Miss Bishop?"

"Not really. And please, Mr. Wayne, call me Ridley."

"Then call me Bruce. What's wrong?"

"Well, I can't sell you these pieces."

"And why's that?"

"Everything you see is on sale. But not right now."

"Not now? So when?"

"Tonight, we're having an auction later on. My father heard about it and decided to make it this huge event. Apparently, the 'elite' of Gotham will be here. He figured if he could get people to come out and support me, he might get some more votes for the upcoming election."

"Ulterior motives." Laughing, Ridley nodded and tapped her finger to her nose.

"You seem to have my father completely figured out, Mr. Way…" She paused, catching herself. "…Bruce." Bruce smiled back at her and she tried not to blush. Had he smiled at Paige that way? Now she understood why the younger woman was acting the way she was. That smile had the power to reduce anyone to a giggling puddle.

"So, what time should I come back for the auction?"

* * *

Later that evening, Bishop and Bride Galleries was filled with practically every member of Gotham's upper crust elite, rich and famous socialite crowd. Somewhere mixed in the sea of people were both of Ridley's sisters and her parents. Off in a corner stood a small clump of gorgeous young men, Ridley shook her head, so that was where her younger sister Natasha wandered off to. Taking another sip of her champagne, Ridley glided out of the corner she had been hiding in and made her way over to where her business partner stood. Ridley had met Arielle McBride in college, not in class or anything, but while running across campus. It had been her first day at the college, she could not, for the life of her, find Sherman Hall and Arielle was a year ahead of her so she must've known her way around. From that day on, as cliché as it sounded, the two were always together. And then, after graduation, they went into business together; Arielle was the business end since that had been what she majored in while Ridley handled the artsy side of the gallery. Arielle stood by the white cloth covered buffet table with her fiancé Ryan Banks. Arielle stood a few inches taller than Ridley with shoulder length red hair that she had recently added black streaks to, and dark green eyes. For the auction, she had changed out of her dress pants and button down blouse and slipped into a teal colored cocktail party dress with strappy black heels. Coming over to her business partner, Ridley slid up alongside her and nudged her with her elbow.

"I hate my father for doing this." Ridley said out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled at Lawrence and Debra Shaw, her father's business partner and his wife.

"There are actually more people here than ever before, maybe you should hate him just a little less. At least for tonight, anyways." Arielle said laughing, as Ryan leaned in, whispering something into her ear before streaking out into the crowd. "He's going to 'mingle' with all the glamorous people." Shaking her head at her friend, Ridley finished off her champagne and went back to scanning the crowd. Her father, Joseph, was in the middle of the room with a large crowd around him and laughed loudly at someone's joke. She loved her father, she really did but when he did things like this, sometimes she wanted to hit him.

"Anyone buy anything yet?"

"There's been a few bids, no buys yet. But you've gotta tell me how you did it."

"How I did what?"

"How did you get Bruce Wayne to come to the auction?" Arching a dark brow at Arielle, she knew she looked a little confused and then went back to glancing around the room. She didn't see him. "He's in your dad's crowd. I saw him walk by earlier. You have to tell me, how?"

"I…I…he wanted to buy some paintings earlier. All I said was that he couldn't this afternoon and if he really wanted them, he had to come back tonight."

"Rids, I've been trying to get an invitation to Bruce Wayne for months and all you did was tell him if he wanted to buy something, he had to come back later. This, this is why we're a good team. I arrange the party and you drag in the good guests." Rolling her eyes, the two talked for a little while longer before Ridley grabbed another glass of champagne and went upstairs, only to slip out onto the large balcony. It was more like a private deck, but the girls had been calling it a balcony since they first bought the building.

Walking across the wooden floor boards, Ridley made her way over to the metal fence and leaned on the railing. Looking out on Gotham's skyline, she sighed. It was her father's job to help 'clean-up' the city, but everyday it seemed that less and less happened and more and more bad things were happening. But she had grown up in Gotham, had lived there all her life and no matter what horror stories she heard, it was her home. She loved the city life and couldn't live anywhere else. She had tried it during her college years and hated every moment of it. The cool night air wrapped around her and she regretted walking out without her jacket; like Arielle she had traded her work clothes for a simple navy blue strapless dress that came to her knees and black high heels. The breeze sent her hair flying around her face and lifted it off of her shoulders.

"Shouldn't the woman of the hour be inside, enjoying her party? Not hiding out here all by herself?" Turning toward the voice coming from behind her, Ridley arched a dark eye brow at Bruce Wayne as he came out onto the deck. In the dim light that didn't quite reach where she was standing, Ridley made out the same slight grin she saw on his face earlier when he came into the gallery that afternoon. It was odd seeing him here; she didn't think he'd show.

"I'm not alone anymore Mr. Wayne. And Arielle is playing 'woman of the hour' right now. We take turns."

"Sharing, that's good." He said, leaning on the railing next to her. "So, have you sold anything yet tonight?"

"Not yet, but it's still early so I'm not too worried." Ridley said, shrugging.

"You're not? What would it take to shock you? The whole gallery sold for the highest bidder?" He asked, looking at her with a semi-playful gleam in his eye. Was he teasing her?

"Actually, yes. That would shock me, very much so. But you being here is pretty shocking, Mr. Wayne."

"It's Bruce and why is that shocking? Didn't expect me to actually show up?"

"Honestly, I didn't even think you knew that my gallery existed until you stepped foot in it this afternoon. I didn't think playboys like yourself would be interested in art. Maybe a photograph of a naked woman, but not muddy, moody landscapes and splashes of paint on canvas." Bruce laughed, an actual honest to God laugh not some fake posh laugh someone inside would give her and Ridley felt her cheeks heat up. She had made a fool out of herself in front of Bruce Wayne. "I am so sorry Mr. Wayne. Sometimes I don't think before I..."

"No, no Miss Bishop. It's fine, really. I thought it was funny." Ridley gave him an odd look. "The playboy thing is just an act, something to keep the tabloid readers interested. And I have a feeling that you know from personal experience that you can't believe everything you read." Ridley snorted, it was true.

"Yeah, I know all about the tabloids. I don't read them anymore, Paige and Arielle do so they try to keep me in the loop. I avoid them like the plague, I don't need to read about Natasha's latest adventures or who she's dating or not dating. And really, all I have to do is ask her all about whatever happened and she'll proudly tell me." Ridley said, shaking her head. Her younger sister had a problem, she did all kinds of wild things and didn't really care if her picture was splashed across those rag-mags. "Besides, they seem to love dragging my name through the mud."

"Oh that's right, I forgot that I'm talking to Gotham's Golden Girl." Bruce's smiled quivered as if he was going to laugh again. Oh God, Ridley hated that. Ever since the press had coined that phrase a few years ago, she hadn't been able to escape it. Out of the three Bishop girls, apparently she was the only one who had the 'honor' of recieving such a nickname. Natasha was the Party Girl and her older sister Temperance was the Ice Queen. And obviously that made her the city's golden girl.

"Please don't call me that. It's either Ridley or Rids. Not Gotham's Golden Girl. When Rachel first heard that, she called me it for weeks." Ridley laughed softly, shaking her head. "Well at least, now I can say that I agree with Rachel when she says the tabloids are extremely wrong."

"Wrong about...?"

"About you. Rachel always told me not..."

"Rachel, who?"

"Dawes."

"You know Rachel?" Bruce asked, arching an eye brow at her.

"Of course I do. We've been friends since we were kids, Mr. Wayne." He just looked at her, as if he was trying to place her face. "You and I never really crossed paths when we were with her. Whenever I was with Rachel, she had either just seen you or was going to later on. I spent a good chunk of my childhood wondering just who her 'mysterious' friend was and when I finally found out, I was more than a little jealous. But that was to be expected, I guess, or at least that was what my older sister told me."

"How come Rachel never..."

"Mentioned me? How should I know? Rachel does her own thing and when she makes up her mind, there is no changing it for her."

"That is true." The two shared a quiet laugh and lasped into a comfortable silnce, staring out at the city they both called their own. "How is she?"

"She's good." Ridley said softly, as she finished off her second glass of champagne and quickly stole a glance over at Bruce. "She still asks about you, you know? She's always asking if I ever run into you. Now I don't have to stutter and change the subject when she calls me on it. She hates when I do that." She laughed, more to herself than Bruce, almost musing over her friend's pet-peeves.

"She hated whenever I did it too, so you're not the only one. Does she ever mention how she's doing out in...damn, where is she working now?" Rachel had told her, if she ever did run into Bruce, there was a good chance he'd be 'completely oblivious' to whatever had happened between them and act like nothing ever happened. Ridley had nodded, on her side of the conversation of course and unseen by Rachel, and promised to fill in the blanks when needed.

"Metropolis. She likes it out there, the pay is good, nice new office and her apartment is amazing. She's happy out there, really happy and doing really good."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was out there a month or so ago. You should give her a call, she'd love to hear from you."

"I doubt that."

"Bruce Wayne, afraid to call a girl? I have seen everything now." Bruce sent her a cool sideways glance. "That was a little off color, I'm sorry. But you really should call her. Rachel didn't leave Gotham because of whatever happened with you guys or because of you. She left Gotham because of Gotham in general." Ridley said, taking a step back from the fence. "And with that ending remark, it's my cue to leave. Anyways, I have to go releave Arielle of her 'Woman of the Hour' duties and go mingle."

"Have fun in there Ridley."

"You too Bruce. Have a good night." Smiling, she squeezed Bruce's hand gently before going back into the gallery and back to her party where she had to pretend that she enjoyed everyone's company. As she closed the French doors behind her, giving Bruce some privacy, she never saw the bat shaped signal light up the cloudless sky overhead.


	2. Artwork

**Hey everybody! Wow, I really wanna thank everyone who reviewed, I was really shocked when I saw how many I got for only one chapter. Thanks! So, this is chapter two. It's kind of a set-up for the next chapter. Kinda sorta. Haha. I hope you guys like this one as much as you did the first. Keep reading and reviewing.—B.E**

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**Chapter Two  
****Artwork**

"I heard you met Bruce Wayne last night."

Ridley set down her glass of water and looked across the table at the blonde who sitting with her. Jayden Avery was one of the few models she used for her paintings or sketches. Unlike the other two girls and the one young man she normally had pose for her, Jay had become one of her few close friends in the few years the two had known each other. Where Ridley was dark haired, dark eyed and somewhat private, Jay was blonde, blue eyed and very much involved in every aspect of the world she could get her hands on. She actually reminded Ridley a lot of her younger sister Natasha.

"Yeah." Ridley said simply, but knew that her answer wasn't good enough for Jay. A light brown eye brow was arched in her direction. "Who told you?"

"Arielle." Jay told her, looking back at her with those blue eyes of hers as she took a sip of the drink she had ordered from the bar. "When is she getting here, by the way?"

"She said she'd be here soon and if we want to, order without her." Arielle was down at the gallery still, going over the orders and the paintings that had been sold the night before at the auction. Ridley hadn't stayed down at the gallery as long as Arielle had the night before, after her conversation with Bruce she pretty much slipped in on one side of the crowd and disappeared through the other. She hated being around those kind of people; the kind that were only there because her father had forced them to. The kind that only smiled because they had to, laughed when told to and then whispered harsh and thoughtless rumors behind your back the moment you left them. Ridley had grown up around them; one didn't have much choice when their father was the owner of the second largest company in Gotham City and then elected mayor in their teenage years.

"I'm not that hungry, I can wait. And while we wait, you can tell me about Wayne." Ridley rolled her eyes at Jay and leaned back against her chair. She hated her sometimes; she pried and pried until she got what she wanted out of her.

"We just talked, hell we wound up talking about Rachel." Jay's upper lip curled and she tossed her long hair over her shoulder. Jayden and Rachel had never been 'girl friends', they had only tolerated one another because of Ridley. Rachel didn't like Jay's over the top personality and Jay…well she just didn't like Rachel overall. "Are you happy now?"

"I guess. If you talked about Rachel, it probably wasn't that interesting. Weren't those two a…thing…once?" Jay asked, looking at her with an arching brow.

"Yeah, but not for long."

"She's not here anymore, you know? You could easily replace her. Make our fair Prince forget all about her."

"Jayden! You're as bad as Natasha. And me and Bruce Wayne? I don't think so. It sounds like some five dollar trashy romance novel." Jay's eyes lit up with an unseen laugh. Oh God, that meant trouble.

"I could see it now; the beautiful and talented painter who just happens to be the Mayor's daughter falling for the bad-boy, angst-ridden, rich playboy. It would sell millions. I'd buy it. We could put a picture of the two of you together on the cover, naked in your studio." Ridley choked on her water and coughed. "What? Don't like it?"

"No, Jayden! Jesus, you want to get us kicked outta here?"

"You two don't have to be naked. Does covered in paint sound better?"

"Oh my God!"

"Oh my God what? What did I miss?" Arielle's voice startled the both of them and two pairs of eyes glanced up at the other woman standing behind Jayden.

"We were just thinking about the cover of Riddie's trashy romance novel."

"She has a romance trashy enough for a novel? When was her last date?" Arielle asked, sitting down in one of the vacant seats at the table and then flagged down a waiter, ordering a martini.

"Umh…almost a year ago. That guy…what was his name? Remember him, the one who came in to fix the computers for you guys?" Jayden said absently, picking at her acrylic nails.

"Oh right! What the hell was his name? Kirk? Chris? Karl?"

"Kyle." Ridley deadpanned, looking at her two best friends. "And could you two stop talking about me like I'm not here? And about my relationships."

"Honey, you and Kyle _so _weren't a relationship." Arielle told her, laughing as she brought her glass to her lips. "It was two bad dates and one long weekend in Florida." Shaking her head, Ridley knew better than to fight with them. And besides, they were right. "So what brought this on? The whole trashy romance thing."

"Our little Riddie-Kins and Bruce Wayne."

"Oh! You two were out there for a long time."

"Wait! You were alone with him? Ridley Elise, you never told me that!" Jayden all but screamed. A few women sitting a table away turned back to look at who caused the noise and Ridley felt her face heat up; one of the women just happened to be Claudia Jefferies, her husband was good friends with her father. Mrs. Jefferies glared at Ridley, not at Jayden, before turning back around and leaning in, probably to hiss some new rumor about her. Old cow.

"I didn't tell you that because it wasn't important. But if you must know, I was out on the deck, alone, and then he came out there. He wasn't looking for me, so don't think that, it looked like he was trying to get away too. We were on the deck for like twenty minutes."

"And then you disappeared and so did he." Arielle said, looking at Ridley. Bruce had left? Why? Seeing her brows knotted together, Arielle realized they hadn't left together. They had just left. "You didn't know. He left right after you did. I saw you sneak out through the side door and then when I went to get another drink, he walked right past me. Seemed like he was in a rush."

"Don't ask me. I didn't even expect him to show up." Ridley said, shrugging.

"Must be horrible on him, you know? Just awful; so much money you could roll in it and probably make a suit out of it. Having most of the female population-and probably a good sized handful of the male-wanting to have your children and if they don't want that, they just fantasize about your body and enormous bank account. Any car in the world, reservations and probably a table at the best restaurants." Jayden said clucking her tongue, after their waiter had come by and taken their order.

"Jayden." Arielle scolded.

"What? Don't look at me that way. I'm just saying, the life of a playboy must be rough." Ridley and Arielle both rolled their eyes at the blonde.

Slowly, their conversation came to an end and Ridley sat back in her chair, thankful. If they kept talking about her and Bruce at the auction, there was a good chance that in the morning, splashed across the gossip column and tabloids would be pictures of the two of them. The two never spoke or were seen in the same circle, but the photographers and reporters would find the perfect picture and make her and Wayne into the hottest new couple in Gotham. Rolling her eyes, she ordered a stronger drink.

"So, how'd we do last night Ari?" Ridley asked a few minutes later, just before their lunches arrived.

"Good, really good. Fifteen paintings sold and sometime in the night, your dad started taking donations for the gallery. We made almost three thousand dollars right there alone."

"Do we need donations?" Ridley asked, sitting up a little straighter in her chair.

"No, but are you going to turn down money?" Ridley shook her head 'no'. "That's what I thought. And besides, weren't you talking about expanding the studio the other day? We could use that money."

"That's true. Guess you're right."

"I'm always right. Oh! I forgot to tell you, someone bought one of your paintings last night." Arielle said smiling. Jayden clapped, rarely was one of Ridley's paintings bought at those stupid auctions and besides, most of her paintings were given to friends or family.

"Who bought it?"

"Bruce Wayne."

* * *

Taking a step back, Bruce Wayne stared up at the painting the movers had mounted on the wall and squinted. It was up there straight, right? Yes. It looked straight. As promised, he bought the three pieces he had looked at with Miss Bishop and had them hung in different places throughout the manor. But this one, the fourth one, he had seen at the auction and had to have it. So, it was placed in his study. Only when he bought it did he find out that Miss Bishop had painted it; her business partner Miss McBride told him herself.

"Why did you decide to hang that one in here, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

"Because it's my favorite." Bruce said, with just a shrug of his shoulders.

"I should hope so sir. But what is it? If I may be so blunt, what am I looking at?" The older man asked, coming up alongside him. Both men stood there, both staring at the painting for a few more minutes. "Master Bruce?"

"It's Gotham, Alfred." Bruce told him, his lips twitching slightly.

"Gotham? Sir, I still don't see it."

"Just look."

And Alfred did. The large canvas had been completely covered with very dark colors: blues, purples, grays and of course, black. And through the dark paint, there were tiny squares of brownish gold. They were spread out; more here, less there and sometimes none at all. They kind of looked like…were they windows? Yes. Yes, they were windows. Windows in what looked like buildings. Stepping closer, Alfred realized that there was something in the foreground and the dark background was just that; a background. Barely highlighted, barely noticeable, were pale angular lines jutting upward and squaring off at the tops; sky scrapers shooting out of the black.

It took another few minutes for Alfred to realize that he was staring at downtown Gotham, at the business district. Bruce had been right.

"Very good choice Master Bruce."

"I thought you'd agree."

"Who's the artist, sir?"

"Ridley Bishop." Bruce said flatly. Alfred looked over to the younger man and furrowed his brows. The same woman who ran that gallery had time to paint such a piece? She was very talented, obviously.

"Bishop? As in one of the Mayor's daughters?"

"Yes, his middle daughter."

"The quiet one." Alfred mused, as he made his way over to Bruce's desk and started collecting the remains of his rather quick lunch that had been interrupted by the delivery men from the gallery and showed no sign of being finished. "Don't you work with her sister? Temperance?"

"Temperance occasionally does some work for us down at the office. She actually came by last week; she brought over some forms her father had drawn up. Something about Bishop Industries wanting to 'team-up' with Wayne Enterprises on a project." Bruce said, slipped past Alfred and over to his file cabinet. "Where did I put those papers?"

"I thought you and Mr. Fox decided not to work with Joe Bishop until the election was over?" It was true; Bruce and Lucius had decided to wait until the results of the election were in. Bruce didn't want anyone to think that by working with Bishop that he was endorsing him, supporting him in his campaign to elected for a third term in office. Pausing, with the file Temperance had given him in hand, Bruce looked over his shoulder at Alfred. "Master Bruce, why the sudden interest in Bishop Industries? You've mentioned before that you didn't like working with them."

"I can change my mind, can't I Alfred?"

"Yes you can sir." Alfred said as he picked up the tray he brought Bruce's lunch in on. "It strikes me as odd, that's all. First you buy that painting and now you're thinking about this proposal, does this have anything to do with Miss Bishop?"

Bruce stiffened. Standing up straight, almost unnaturally straight, he looked over his shoulder at Alfred and glared. This had nothing to do with Miss Bishop. He had only met her the night…no day before. But she was an interesting young woman, more like intriguing, striking. Smart. Passionate. Beautiful too. But no. No. No, it was just business. It was a business plan. That was all.

"It has nothing to do with Miss Bishop." Nodding, Alfred turned toward the door and headed out into the hall. Pausing in the doorway, he turned on his heel and looked back toward Bruce, who was now sitting in his desk chair, looking over his day planner. "Yes Alfred?" Bruce asked without even looking up.

"Shall I RSVP to Mayor Bishop's banquet next week?" Bruce just nodded and asked Alfred to close the door on his way out.

* * *

Ridley eyed the clock on the bottom right hand corner of her computer screen and sighed. She had been staring at the damn list of names for nearly twenty minutes. The list of names that Arielle had given her. The list was made up of all the people who had bought paintings at the auction and like always, she called and thanked them for choosing something for their gallery, asked how the delivery men had been, said she hoped that they liked what they bought and told them to come back and buy something again. Normal stuff, just trying to keep her customers happy. But of course, at the bottom of this list was Bruce Wayne. And of course there were no other 'W' last names that she could call first and just keep putting him off until she had no other choice. Apparently, she was already at 'no other choice'.

"Still working on that?" Looking up at Arielle, Ridley nodded. Coming into the office spaced that they shared, Arielle dropped down into the empty seat in front of her desk and grabbed the list—two sheets of printer paper—from her. Every name but _Wayne_ had a check by it. "Just call him Riddie."

"He bought one of my pieces, isn't me calling him a little…I dunno…biased or something?"

"No, 'biased or something' would be if you sold him the painting and since you didn't…"

"You can call him then."

"No can do. I do paperwork and all that other stuff you refuse to do, you do the selling and the calling. That was our deal. So hop to it." Rolling her eyes, Ridley grabbed the sheet back from her and glanced at it as she punched in the numbers. Bringing the phone to her ear, she listened to it ring and ring and ring. It rang a grand total of six times before a machine picked up. Clearing her throat, Ridley slid into her polite voice, what she called her 'business woman' voice.

"Good evening Mr. Wayne, this is Ridley Bishop down at Bishop and Bride Galleries. I'm glad that you came out last night to our auction and heard this morning from my business partner that you purchased those paintings we looked at. And I also heard that you bought one of mine. I was very shocked when I heard that, but I hope that you like it. I do hope that our delivery men weren't any trouble and brought you your purchases without any incident. If you'd like to come by and have another look around the gallery, maybe make an appointment for a private tour, I'm sure Arielle gave you our card, so just give us a call if you're interested. Thank you again Mr. Wayne. Have a good night." Putting the phone down, Ridley looked over at Arielle and gave her a tight smile.

"See, that wasn't hard."

"I hate you."

"I know." She said, pushing herself up out of the chair. "And he's going to call you."

"Oh? How do you know?" Turning around in the doorway, Arielle looked back at her and smirked. "What? Did you do something? Did Jay? I swear…why do I keep you two around?"

"Because without us, Bruce Wayne wouldn't have your cell phone number." So that was what it felt like to have her jaw hit the top of her desk. This was why she didn't date anymore, too many people got involved. Arielle smirked again, gave her a tinkling little wave before disappearing.

"Oh my God." Ridley moaned, burying her face in her hands.


	3. Sisters

**Hey guys. Thanks for all the reviews! I loved them. Sorry this took so long, being sick, school and not being able to come up with a decent idea is a really bad combonation. But here's the next chapter; this one was supposed to be chapter four, but I switched it. Hope you guys like it. Keep reading and reviewing.--B.E**

* * *

**Chapter Three  
Sisters**

"Aren't those Joe's daughters?" Joan Vincent asked, looking toward the trio of young women walking toward the closed in patio dining area. The girls stood in a row, from oldest to youngest; two brunettes and a bottle blonde. She watched as the oldest brunette—that one had to be Temperance; Joan was sitting a good distance away and couldn't quite make out all the details—leaned over and hissed something to the blonde, to Natasha. The other brunette, Ridley, stood in the middle and shook her head; obviously she was tired of being stuck between her sisters.

"It looks that way, doesn't it? I thought they had their memberships revoked?" Karen Baker asked her friend, pushing her designer sunglasses down her nose to get a better look at the girls.

"Only one of them did; Temperance just renewed hers and I'm not so sure about Ridley. She doesn't usually come." Claudia Jefferies said, sipping her coffee.

"And why would Ridley come? She's too busy with her paintings." Joan scoffed, keeping both hawk-like eyes on the trio, who were forever coming closer. "She doesn't seem to understand that this is her life and she can't just up and walk away from it."

"No matter how hard she tries." Karen added.

"The girl is wild, not as bad as Natasha, but that's beside the point. The only one with an ounce of sense in her head is Temperance. That one went to law school and now works with her father; she's married too. Good for her." Claudia said, putting her cup down and waved politely at a familiar face at the next table.

"So what you're saying is that the younger ones need to be more like Temperance?" Joan asked, arching an eye brow in a curious manner.

"No, what I'm saying is that Natasha should be sedated and Ridley needs to grow up."

Ridley rolled her eyes for about the tenth times since they entered the Club. She was stuck, right between another infamous Natasha/Temperance fight. If she hadn't been so used to them, she would've screamed. But they had been going on since Natasha was old enough to know the difference between her and her two older sisters. In all actuality, Natasha was their half sister; same father, different mother. Her mother was their father's second wife and once Tasha figured out what exactly a half sister was, the fights began. Out of the three of them, their younger sister was the most different and not just because of the parent issue. Temperance was the oldest, plain and simple. And she took charge, because of her station in the family. She was also the first to do everything, again because of her station; first to go to school, first to have a real sleepover, first to have a boyfriend and all those other firsts. She paved the way for her younger sister, like all older sisters do. But she had expected her younger sisters to stay on that path and not deviate from the plan. And the deviating started when Ridley entered high school. Her long, pretty brown hair was cut to her ears and streaked with obnoxiously bright colors and she started to paint. On everything: her body, clothes, walls in their home, decorated many a mirror and sometimes, canvases. And when it came time for college, Ridley didn't go to law school like Temperance had, she enrolled in art school and unlike her sister, paid her own way, lived on campus in a dorm with roommates and went out of state. And then came Natasha, with her fake blonde hair, love for make-up and fashion sense. The day high school ended for the youngest Bishop, she hopped on a plane and flew to California with all hopes of become famous. And she did, she became a model; walking down runways, displaying the newest fall trends and soon, by the end of that year, she'd have her own fashion line out.

There were of course similarities between the three, but it ended at the same nose and bone structure; they were three completely different people and at times, one didn't know what to do with the other two.

"Please say you agree with me Riddie." Blinking away her thoughts, if she couldn't physically escape her sisters constant bickering, she mentally escaped; Ridley stared over at Natasha and sighed. She hadn't heard a word she had said.

"What am I agreeing with?" She asked and out of the corner of her eye, caught a few men who belonged to the club looking their way. More importantly, looking Natasha's way.

"That if Temperance wanted to show off, she didn't need to drag us with her." Sadly, she did agree and now, she'd be dragged into the fight.

"She's got a point Tempe. You're only having lunch with Simon Briggs; you don't really need us here." Ridley said, wincing inwardly as she saw Temperance's jaw clench.

"Oh, I'm sorry that I asked my sisters to come with me, to support me." It was well known fact that Simon Briggs was going through the beginnings of a messy divorce and was searching for new lawyer, after firing his last one, and Temperance was searching for a new, high powered client. They were a perfect match. And she just happened to have a foot up on the competition, Briggs Steel Works and Bishop Industries regularly worked together on numerous projects. "I go everywhere with you two, to support you. I even flew to France for a day for you Tash, but it's all right. I understand. Here…" Temperance snapped, digging into her purse and pulled out a fifty. "…Catch a cab home. On me."

Two pairs of dark eyes rolled at her. It was guilt trip. One they had heard before, just with different words. Sometimes 'flying to France' was replaced with 'helped you move that canvas' or 'sent my assistant out to make flyers for you' or something else Temperance had helped them with.

"We'll stay Tempe." Ridley sighed, running a hand through her loose hair.

"Good. And if you're staying, Natasha, please go find something and cover up." Temperance said sharply before heading toward the main clubhouse. Ridley looked over to her younger sister and sniggered.

"Shut up."

"I told you she wasn't going to be happy with that outfit." And who would? Natasha was wearing a short, bright pink shirt-dress with a pair of white ballet flats and an oversized purse swung over her shoulder. Temperance had snorted the second she saw her, saying that her outfit wasn't 'appropriate club-wear'. Apparently, she had on 'appropriate club-wear'; her neatly pressed white dress pants, black sensible high heels and dove gray short sleeved dress shirt. Ridley had barely gotten away with what she was wearing; a pair of cropped pants, a plain short sleeve shirt and low heeled sandals.

"So wait, if she's going to meet Briggs for lunch, do we have to go too?" Natasha asked, looking at Ridley.

"I have no idea."

"I don't like that man, so do we have to go?"

"We don't have to; we could just stop in later on and say hi."

"Good." She said, tugging her purse back up to where it belonged on her shoulder. "I'm going to the pool. Meet me later and then we'll go crash her lunch or whatever." Tasha said, with an impatient wave of her hand before flitting off in one direction, heading down a concrete and fence lined path that Ridley knew led toward the pools.

Standing there on the walkway that lead up to the clubhouse, Ridley could feel eyes on her and turned. Over at the patio coming off of the restaurant inside, the same place Temperance was meeting Briggs, sat Karen Baker, Joan Vincent and Claudia Jefferies. The Dreads. The three women Ridley made sure to avoid at all costs at all public places and social functions. Smiling tightly at them, Ridley tried not to roll her eyes as they smiled back. Out of all the women she put up with, she hated those three the most. Turning on her heel, putting her back to the Dreads, Ridley took the opposite walkway Natasha had taken and found herself heading toward the golf course. It was a Saturday afternoon; she had a good chance of finding her father somewhere, playing rounds of golf with his buddies or at the clubhouse bar drinking scotch with them.

"Ridley! Hey Ridley wait up!" Glancing over her shoulder, Ridley saw Chris Harding running up behind her. Chris was her father's caddy and an intern down at Bishop Industries. When he caught up with her, he flashed her a bright smile, the same one she saw whenever she visited the office. "Hey Rids."

"Chris, hi. What's up?"

"Nothing really." The younger man said, running a hand through his close cropped hair. "What are you doing here? I didn't peg you for a country club girl."

"I'm not, I'm here for ah…moral support?" Chris's eye brow arched so high that it nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Temperance has an important lunch with a perspective client and she dragged us along."

"Us?"

"Yeah, me and Natasha." His eyes lit up. _'Another 'love' struck idiot,' _Ridley thought before telling him where he could find her sister.

"Thanks Rids! Oh, before I forget, your dad is in the Cigar Lounge with some guys from work." Chris told her, before running off, going back the way he came and probably ran all the way to the pool. Natasha did have a soft spot for but knowing her sister, Ridley had a feeling that it didn't go much deeper than that. Shaking her head, _'…kids,' _she thought, Ridley took her time before going into the clubhouse. She walked through the gardens and down toward the pound, staring out across the water for a few minutes, before turning around and heading back to the cement walk-way.

Inside the Gotham Country Club's main clubhouse; which was decorated in white and navy striped curtains, matching furniture and décor, making it look like it was more of yacht club than a golf club, Ridley spotted the door to the Cigar Lounge. The lounge was right off the bar and was where all the business men spent their time, after the bar of course. They brought their half finished rocks glasses filled with scotch or brandy, lit brand new imported cigars and talked stocks, foreign markets, real estate and eventually sports. She had spent a lot of time in there when she was younger; perched on the arm of her father's warm leather chair and listened in on all of their conversations. Temperance had done it before her and as she older, when she got tired of listening to them, Natasha took her place. Walking into the Lounge, she was greeted by the heady scent of cigar smoke and inhaled deeply; it reminded her of her father.

"Joe, you didn't tell us your girls were here." Frank Keller said, smiling up at Ridley as she walked in and took her normal seat on the arm of Joe's chair.

"I didn't know she was here. Hello darling." Joe said as Ridley leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "You remember the gang, don't you?" He asked as she looked around the room. Some people looked familiar, but there were some new faces sprinkled around too.

"No, not really."

"Well, you know Lawrence and Eric…" Lawrence Shaw was her father's right hand man down at the company and Eric St. George was his campaign manager. "…and Frank Keller, James Joyce, Oliver Greenberg, Lou Stevens, Kevin Leary and Bruce Wayne." Ridley arched an eye brow and looked over to Bruce. Well, he was definitely one of the newer members of her father's club. The men sitting in the leather chairs smiled over at her, some nodded and others raised their glasses in a mock toast, sort of welcoming her to their inner circle. Bruce just gave her half of a smile.

"Hi…" She muttered, giving them a wave of her fingers.

"You're just in time Riddie, we're all going to have lunch over in the restaurant. Would you like to join us?" Her father asked and she was tempted to say yes, but remembered Temperance.

"Can't, I have to meet back up with Tempe soon."

"Temperance is here?" Joe asked, his graying eye brows furrowing. He had three daughters, two assistants and the same secretary that he had hired when he first started his company and somehow he didn't know that his girls were floating around the club.

"So is Tasha, meaning now I have to go save some poor pool boy from her clutches before we meet up with Tempe." A few rough laughs came from the men sitting around the room. Joe just smiled and gave them all a nod; she was his daughter, what did they expect?

"If you change your mind Miss Bishop, we have a table in the Harbor." Lou said, smiling warmly at her. She had known Lou since she was a child. The Harbor—to go with the yacht club theme—was the name of the large restaurant where all the club guest usually ate and the patio where Ridley left the Dreads was its outside dining area. It was another few minutes before the room emptied; a trail of business men filing out and across the club to the Harbor. Sliding off the arm of the chair, Ridley sank into the plush leather cushion and reached for the box on the table to her right. Pulling out a cigar, she spun it around in her fingers for a few minutes; debating on whether she wanted it or not. Smoking it would definitely give the Dreads something to talk about.

"I didn't peg you as a cigar smoker." Looking up at Bruce, Ridley smiled. Ever since Arielle had given him her number, he had called her, a couple times actually, and they had a few decent conversations. And it surprised her. She hadn't expected to get along so well with him.

"I'm not, well not really. But I didn't peg you for a member of Daddy's little 'clique'." She said, laughing.

"Your father and I are friends. He's a good man."

"I know. So, why aren't you off eating lunch with them?" Ridley asked, putting the cigar back in the back and crossed her legs, her fingers twining around her knee cap.

"I'm heading back to the office, papers I need to pick up for Monday." Ridley shook her head as she laughed. "What?"

"Nothing, my father used to say the same thing when I was kid. Just had a flashback, that's all." She said, as she pushed herself out of the chair. "Now, if you'll excuse me Mister Wayne, I have to go find Tash and then we have to crash Tempe's lunch meeting."

"I was hoping you'd stay a few minutes longer." Bruce said as she started for the door.

"What for?"

"Don't worry, we can discuss it over dinner later on tonight." He said, his lips twitching into a slight smile. "That is, if you're free Miss Bishop." Ridley blushed slightly, she could feel her ears heat up some, but laughed it off. She wasn't stupid enough to turn down Bruce, besides her sisters and her friends would probably disown her for it.

"I'd love to." She said a minute later,

"Good. I'll send the car around at eight." Bruce told her, before pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. Before she could say anymore, he was out the door. "Remember, eight sharp."

Eight. It sounded good.


	4. Politics

**Hey guys! Sorry this took so long, but its that time again in college, ya know crazy end of the semester time and I've had like no time to update anything. But no worries, here's chapter four. This chapter was pretty fun, it was supposed to be chapter three but I changed it up a little. Anyways, the end of this one wasn't the easiest to come up with, it doesn't end with Ridley--which I so wanted it to--but when I read it back, it just wasn't working. There was too much going on too fast. It was A LOT of chapter to both read and to write. So, I shortened it and here we go! haha. I hope you guys like this and keep reviewing! I love the ones I've gotten so far and I can't wait to read more!--B.E  
**

* * *

**Chapter Four- Politics**

"And I promise you, with me as your new mayor, the Narrows will be brought back from the brink! And Gotham will be better than ever! As good as it should have been twenty years ago when the depression hit! As good as it should have been ten years ago when Joe Bishop made this same promise! And as good as I promise you right here, right now, today! So elect me as your new mayor for you new Gotham!" Aaron Levine almost shouted and ended his speech on the steps of City Hall with a thunderous round of applause and a blinding fire of flash bulbs.

All around her, Ridley watched people clap, scream and cheer for Aaron. Most of them were her age; they had only been children when the depression hit and paid no attention to what people like the Bishops, Waynes, Jefferies, Greenbergs, Briggs' and the other members of the 'upper crust' had done to help the city. They had only been teenagers when her father was elected mayor for the first time and were too wrapped up in their own 'dramas' to notice how hard he had been working to bring Gotham back. She had; but she had been there, had seen it and she knew if she wasn't his daughter, she'd probably be clapping for Aaron too. Or maybe not, she knew Aaron personally and was better off without.

Making her way through the crowd, up toward the podium Aaron had been standing behind—or hiding, depending on how you saw it—Ridley slipped past rowdy supporters and dodged reporters until the crowd finally thinned enough for her to see Aaron. He was a few years older than her, more like Temperance's age, and at one time, he had been her boyfriend; Ridley was a junior in high school and Aaron was in college. He was tall, but not too tall with neatly cropped and combed rusty brown colored hair and green eyes. She had found him handsome at one time. And then he went into politics; changing for the worst.

"Oh look at who it is!" Aaron called out and behind him, his 'entourage' stopped and all the cameras that had been on him turned toward her. "Ridley Bishop, what a pleasant surprise! Here to support my campaign?" He asked and all of the sudden anyone with a microphone or tape recorder was waiting for Ridley's answer.

"No, not here to support the '_cause'_, I'm just here to check out the competition." Ridley told him, told all of them, and laughed it off. So did Aaron as he pulled her close and draped an arm over her shoulders.

"Rids and I have been friends since we were teenagers." He gushed and the media ate it up; tomorrow's headlines would probably have something about a 'sordid' teenage love affair; Ridley rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, we go way back...just not any further, huh." She joked and felt Aaron's grip on her arm tighten. Cameras flashed all around them and Ridley kept blinking, trying to clear the spots from her eyes. Aaron's smile was so fake; it was almost sickening.

"Miss Bishop! Miss Bishop! Megan Powers with the Gotham Globe; who will you be voting for come Election Day?" The perky young journalist asked and Ridley laughed.

"My father, of course! Family loyalty comes before friendship, sorry Aaron love." She teased, flashing Aaron a sad smile.

"No worries my dear, no worries. I knew you'd be voting for your father, he's a good man and a fine opponent." Aaron told Miss Powers. A few more reporters from different magazines, papers, radio shows and television stepped forward to ask her their own 'important' and 'gripping' questions. Apparently, they had their fill of Aaron.

"Ladies, gentlemen, one last question for the lovely Miss Ridley; she's a busy woman with a schedule and deadlines to keep. One last one!" Aaron called out about fifteen minutes after the very first question had been thrown her way. In all the time she had known him that had to be the nicest thing he had ever done for her.

"Right here Miss Bishop!" Ridley nodded and the man pushed to the front of the crowd. "Gary Thurman from the Weekly Investigator."

Ridley blanched. The Weekly Investigator was a goddamn rag-mag, a damn tabloid that loved to print new rumors about her and her family in their weekly glossy installment and almost hourly on their website. The latest rumor on the site was that Temperance's marriage was failing and she was dating her new client Yvette Marcus. Her sister! Dating a woman! No way. Ridley had nearly choked to death on her coffee when she saw that one. And the only thing that could be done about that...crap was to sue. Ridley wanted to, but Tempe said no. Whatever. Next to her, she could feel Aaron practically vibrating with excitement, he loved this. He probably planted the man in the crowd just incase she showed up.

"Go ahead." She said softly.

"You and Bruce Wayne have been spending a lot of time together lately; what's that state of your relationship and do you know who Bruce is voting for?" Ridley just stared at him for a few seconds. What did it matter if they were dating? Not dating? Going to lunch together? Or spending the night at each other's home--which they were not doing, not matter what the tabloids said. And why did it matter who he was voting for? Ridley didn't know, she hadn't asked, but he was friends with her father. "Miss Bishop?" Aaron's laughter took the attention off of her for a second.

"Miss Ridley and Wayne are too busy buying hotels, fancy sport cars and small countries to even talk politics; but due to their relationship—work related, personal or whatever it may be—I have a feeling that I've lost Gotham's crown prince to Team Bishop."

"Thank you Aaron." Ridley said honestly; she had no idea how to answer that one.

"You are most welcome Rids. And thank all of you for coming out today! No further questions! Thank you!" He called over his shoulder, his arm still over Ridley's, as the two of them made their way out of the crowd and up the steps to City Hall. Once in the lobby, Ridley slid out from under his arm and glared at him, brushing off her jacket. She watched him speak to one of his campaign managers before finally turning back toward her; dark green eyes fixing on her.

"What are you really doing down here Bishop?" He snarled; that was the Aaron she knew.

"Like I said, checking out the competition." She said, pushing her fingers through her dark hair. "I'm actually looking for the right loop hole so my father can destroy you and your bullshit campaign."

"You really should consider a career change; you'd be great in politics." Aaron sneered, almost stepping into her personal space. Ridley took a step back and folded her arms over her chest. "Is that all?"

"No, I didn't come here for job advice. We need to talk."

"Breaking up again, are we?" Ridley chose to ignore him and clenched her fists at her side. She would not punch him. And besides, she had done that before and it was only rewarding once in a lifetime.

"You need to stop running your mouth about my family; especially me and my sisters." Ridley snapped at him, pushing him away, out of the step she had taken and her personal space; he always had a habit of being too close. "We're none of your business." Aaron smirked.

"Riddie, all is fair in love in politics." She stopped picking at her poorly done manicure and arched an eye brow. What was that?

"You did go to college to be a lawyer, right? My memory isn't that crappy, is it? The saying is 'all is fair in love and war', you idiot."

"War, politics. Same difference." She was going to hit him, he was unbelievable. Taking a deep breath and straightening out her jacket again, Ridley cleared her throat and mustered a fresh albeit tight smile.

"Just stop talking about us, if you don't, I'll bring in my lawyer." And she meant it. Temperance wasn't her lawyer, but Paul Keller. His father was friends with her father and the two had grown up together; he also worked with Temperance down at the same law firm.

"Temperance? What's she going to do?"

"Nothing, it's not Tempe. He's worse."

"Worse? Who can be worse than you sister?" Aaron asked, laughing and Ridley smirked.

"So umh...how's the wife?" That shut up him up. Aaron and his wife Emily had gotten divorced almost three years earlier and Emily had hired Tempe to represent her. Aaron almost lost more than half of his bank account and forty-nine percent of his company.

"She's in Paris with her fiancé."

"Good for her. Send her my best." She said, pulling her purse back up her arm to where it belonged on her shoulder. "And remember what I said."

With that said, Ridley walked out the same way they had come in and pushed her way back through the crowd, back to her car. She had a party to get ready for and an appointment at the salon to keep.

--

"_And in celebrity news, Gotham's own celebrities are out in force this evening; many gathering at the Gotham Ritz's Sun Room for Mayor Joseph Bishop's annual City Gala. The guest list includes many of our city's elite, including super model Tash Bishop and Bruce Wayne." _Channel Five's entertainment reporter, Whitney Woods, chirped.

Over on the nearly threadbare couch, Ian Williams snorted into his beer as another image of his half-sister, Natasha popped up on the screen. The only thing the two had in common was their mother, Stacy Williams-Archer formerly Bishop. He snorted again, louder this time, as Whitney continued to prattle on about Natasha's up coming clothing line. The Bishop girls—his half sister and former step-sisters—disgusted him; flaunting their life style, the money and all the other luxuries that came with being the children of a self made millionaire turned mayor. He hated Joe; if it hadn't been for him cheating on his mother, the girls' lives could have been his. Should have been his. He deserved it he deserved the huge houses, the cushy bank account and the fame. He didn't deserve his crappy apartment that was only a few blocks from the Narrows, his two minimum wage paying jobs and night classes at Gotham Community College.

Ian's light colored eye brows arched higher as Ridley's face flashed on the screen. Ridley. He had always liked her best. Natasha was his sister and Temperance was a cold hearted shrew. But Ridley...she was...Ridley.

"_In other celebrity news..." _Whitney gushed._ "...the ever camera shy and photo allergic Ridley Bishop—Tash's older sister and Mayor Bishop's middle daughter—was spotted today at mayor hopeful Aaron Levine's press conference. The two friends laughed it up in front of the camera, posed for some pictures and answered several juicy questions. And just an hour ago, Rids got her picture taken arriving at the Ritz for her father's party." _And in place of an image from the press conference with Levine, Ian saw a new one. Ridley stood there in a gold dress with her long hair curled and piled on top of her head. But what startled him the most was who's arm she was on. Bruce Wayne smiled down at her in the photo.

"Rich bastard." Ian sneered as he drained the last of her beer, the empty bottle hanging by its neck in his hand, and fingered the sharp edge of the envelope in his lap.

"_The golden dress worn by our Golden Girl was accessorized by simple diamond stud earrings and an emerald bracelet. But the most eye catching accessory was certainly Bruce Way. Sources say, not only did the billionaire buy our girl those pretty earrings, but that the two have been spending a great deal of time together and were caught kiss..."_ Whitney disappeared with a click. Ian couldn't watch anymore. Seeing Wayne with Ridley, with little Riddles, was enough to make him sick. He wondered what Wayne had said to her, bribed her with to get her to be his 'date' for the evening. Ridley had sunk so low.

Fumbling, he opened the envelope and pulled out a tri-folded piece of stationary. Tight, looping heavy handwriting stared up at him. It was familiar.

-_Ian_

_I know that we have hardly spoken since your mother and Joseph divorced, but I feel now is the time to reach out to you.  
It seems as if we both have the same thorn lodged into our sides; more precisely, three thorns. If you understand my meaning. I have a feeling that you have reached your breaking point with them and are fed up with them rubbing it in your face, the life you missed out on.  
Please give me a call. Day or night. We have much to discuss, if you're up to it._

_-Caroline Bishop._

It bothered him somewhat, Caroline was Temperance, Ridley and Natasha's step-mother, a grandmother to Tempe's two boys; but here she was, seeking him out. Leaving her number with him. What exactly did he have planned for the girls?

Grabbing the cordless phone, Ian punched in the numbers written under her name and waited. Waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hello Mrs. Bishop, its Ian."


	5. Recognition

**Holy Crap, I haven't updated this since April? God, I have gotten backed up. But don't worry, I promise updates more often. So! I've had the first half of this chapter for a while now, and I mean A WHILE, like two months. I think I was still in school when I wrote it, but I couldn't get an ending, no matter how hard I tried. But, earlier today I saw _The Dark Knight_ and it totally came to me. Right there in the middle of the movie theatre. And oh my God was that movie amazing. I loved it. Christian Bale was amazing and Heath Legder? Holy crap...I can't. It was sooooo good.**

**All right! Now, back to the chapter. The first half is a flashback, it goes back to a scene in the first movie, I'm sure you'll know the scene when you read it, so I don't want to give anything away. Younger-Ridley is kind of well...a pain. But she was young and stupid, so you can't fault her for anything she might've said toward our beloved Bruce. Again, not giving anything away. And then the end is in the present. There's another note at the bottom, but read the chapter first and then that one. It'll make sense. So, sorry for the long wait! But this is good, I promise. I have the beginning of the next chapter ready to go and that'll be up soon. Promise! I hope you all like this! Thanks for waiting and not sending me hate-mail! haha. Keep reading and reviewing!--B.E**

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**Chapter Five- Recognition**

"So what are we doing today?" An impatient twenty-two year old Ridley Bishop asked as she pulled her head back in the car and began rolling up the passenger's side window. In the driver's seat sat her best friend, Rachel Dawes. The two young women couldn't be more different; Rachel worked down at the district attorney's office while Ridley was part time down at her father's company and still struggling to get her paintings into galleries. But that was what made them work; they balanced each other out; practical Rachel and wild Ridley.

"After I pick up Bruce…" Rachel began, flipping on her directional.

"Ahh…the Prodigal Princeling has returned has he?" Ridley interrupted, sniggering, but Rachel flat out ignored her. "Another ivy-league school kicked him out on his trust fund padded ass?" Rachel just rolled her eyes this time.

"After _I _pick up _Bruce_, I'm dropping you off down at my office and when the hearing is over, we'll all go to lunch." Rachel said, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of them.

"Lunch with Gotham's crown prince? Miss Dawes, I fear that I am severely under dressed for such an outing."

"Shut up Rids." Rachel moaned as she turned up a long, winding paved driveway. Inching closer to the dashboard, Ridley looked out the front windshield and whistled low between her teeth. This house made her father's look like a summer bungalow.

"Nice place."

"Welcome to Wayne Manor." Ridley whistled again.

A few minutes later, once Rachel parked the car and Ridley asked where the valet service was—she got smacked for that one—the two got out and headed for the large and looming front doors. Ridley had never felt so small. After three quick knocks from Rachel, one of the doors opened and there stood an older man. His eyes fell on Rachel and his smile grew wider, eyes lighting up with familiar and friendly recognition.

"Hello Rachel, it has been too long since your last visit." The man said, in a smooth British accent and gently squeezed Rachel's hands. He reminded Ridley of her grandfather.

"I know it's been too long, but I'm always busy. So, is he here?"

"He's up in his room, putting his things away; I hope. And who is your friend?" He asked, looking right at Ridley. She smiled under the man's warm gaze and stepped out from behind Rachel.

"Oh! Rids, this is Alfred Pennyworth; the Waynes' butler. Alfred, this is my best friend Ridley Bishop."

"Joseph Bishop's daughter, I presume?" Alfred asked, shaking her hand.

"You presume right. Rachel has told me so much about you."

"All good, I hope?" Ridley nodded. "I have heard many a tall-tale about you as well. And I must say it's nice to put a name to the face; those pictures in the tabloids do you no justice."

"Thank you so much Alfred." Ridley blushed and Rachel laughed at her.

"You are very welcome Miss Bishop."

"Call me Ridley, please."

"Ridley, of course. Oh! Come in, come in both of you. I am so sorry." Alfred said, herding them both inside, talking the whole time and led them into the kitchen. Ridley felt even smaller; the place was bigger than any place she had ever been to. It was crazy. She figured she could fit her entire condo in here easily and still have more than half the house to spare. The kitchen was no different. "Please ladies, make yourselves at home. I assume you remember where everything is, right Miss Rachel?"

"I do Alfred."

"Wonderful. Let me go find Master Bruce." Ridley watched Alfred vanish around the corner and then hopped onto a bar stool before turning to Rachel. She looked so comfortable there, as if she was stepping back into a childhood memory; and she was. Ridley remembered hearing all about her adventures at the manor with a young Bruce Wayne.

"What?" Rachel asked, arching an eye brow in her direction.

"Nothing, I'm just amazed. Impressed actually. This place is amazing. And Alfred with the whole 'Master Bruce' and 'Miss Rachel'; it's nice. I was lucky if our housekeeper remembered my name. And of course, the next challenge was saying it right." Rachel laughed as she tucked her hair back behind her ear. "He seems really nice."

"Oh, he is Riddie. Ya know I'm sure Alfred would love company, why don't you stay here during the hearing?"

"I don't think so Rach, I don't fit in here." She said looking down at her outfit; skin tight jeans tucked into knee high combat boots, a vintage Doors concert tee and her leather motorcycle jacket. "This really isn't my place."

"You're fine." Rachel said, looking at her as if that was the craziest thing she had ever said.

"You might think that, but I'm not." They lapsed into a semi-uncomfortable silence as Rachel peaked in and out of cabinets and Ridley played with the zippers on her sleeves. It was fun to watch Rachel; it was like she was trying to re-remember everything she had learned as a child. Ridley smiled. "Hey Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"This museum got a bathroom?"

"Upstairs, right when you come into the hall. Why?"

"I wanna make sure my make-up is okay. I'd hate to scare your fair Princeling back to his precious school." She said, pointing at the think black eye liner she had running across both lids. Rachel just rolled her eyes as Ridley hopped off the stool and headed out of the kitchen.

"You don't want me to show you where it is?" Rachel called out, hoping Ridley was still in ear shot and would hear her.

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, send help!" Ridley yelled back over her shoulder as she started up the long main staircase. Everything; paintings, small sculptures, vases and other most likely insanely expensive 'knickknacks', were all covered in white tarps. Everything was, from furniture to paintings on the walls; the place looked barely lived in. She felt a twinge of guilt fly through her, thinking back on her 'museum' crack. But that was what the place felt like, a museum. Coming up off the stairs, up into the hallway, Ridley found the bathroom right where Rachel said it would be, but she kept going straight. At the very end of the long hall was a bedroom and the heavy wooden doors were wide open. Curiosity got the better of her and she kept going forward.

Taking a step into the bedroom, the plush carpet sank under her heavy boots and tiny clouds of dust erupted with each step she took. A large, ornate bed sat in the middle of the room and more expensive and antique-ish looking art pieces and decorations surrounded her. A faint gasp escaped Ridley; she was in the Wayne's master bedroom. Well, more like master suite, the room was huge. Walking across the room, Ridley parted the sun warmed curtains and stared out across the estate. No wonder why they chose this room as theirs, the view was lovely. She had never seen Gotham like that before. A flicker of something gold caught her eye. Making her way over to a small writing desk right across from the foot of the bed, Ridley picked up a heavy picture frame; the dust was unsettled on one side as if someone had touched it before her. Inside the frame was a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. She remembered them, barely, she had been young when they were murdered.

In the photo, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were leaning towards each other, shoulder touching and smiling at the camera. Mrs. Wayne was beautiful, she always had been. Even the picture of her that the papers had used the night after they were killed; she still looked beautiful. Her father had known Thomas Wayne, they had been good friends. And her mother Lynette—not Caroline, never Caroline—had been on the trustees board down at the Gotham Art Museum with Martha. Ironic, they both were long gone.

"Who are you and what exactly are you doing in here?" A man's voice called from the doorway and startled Ridley so bad that she nearly dropped the picture frame. Putting it down, she turned on her heel and gulped when she saw who was standing there. He was handsome, as handsome as the woman at her father's office said he was, with his dark hair and eyes. His aristocratic features and the mix of emotions rolling off of him left Ridley speechless. She had never been 'rendered' speechless by a man before.

"Did you hear me? I asked you a…"

"I heard you Mr. Wayne and I'm sorry…I…I just umh…wandered in here. Curious, that's all. I was looking for the…the…bathroom, she said it was up here and I got… sidetracked. Again, I'm sorry." Ridley muttered; wringing her hands together as her eyes darted to the floor.

"You still didn't answer my first question, who are you? And who's she?" Ridley didn't exactly enjoy being talked down to like that. No one did that to her.

"That's two questions, Wayne. Rachel, that's who _she _is." She said, her bravado was coming back. She stared back at him now and held his gaze. He didn't frighten her. "I'm Rachel's friend and that's good enough for now." She said strongly and began to move toward the door, going to walk right through him if she had to.

"Rachel's friend who? And where is she?" He asked as she shouldered past him and stepped out into the hallway.

"She's in the kitchen, ask her my name if you want to know so bad." She said, as she started down the corridor. Turning, walking backwards, Ridley smirked at him. "I remember your father, Mr. Wayne. I'm a little disappointed."

She kept her eyes on him the rest of the way down the hall and then jogged down the staircase. Breezing into the kitchen, Ridley found Rachel standing there, drinking a glass of water. Her friend smiled at her, but Ridley didn't smile back.

"Riddie, what happened? I was going to send out the search party."

"I'm fine. Oh, I met your prince." She snapped.

"And?"

"And I don't know what you see in him."

"Rids…"

"Don't worry. I'm skipping lunch and I'll find my own ride home."

"Ridley…" Rachel tried again, pleading with her.

"I'll call my dad, he can send a car around or something."

"Ridley, you don't have to leave. What happened? Did he say anything to you?"

"Nothing happened. Don't worry. Just tell him if he has any complaints, he can call Bishop Industries, extension 1654 and we can talk all about it." Ridley said, zipping her coat up and made her way out the same way she came. "I'll call ya later Rach."

**_-Present-_**

"…so whenever you get this, just gimmie a call back, okay Rach? Remember, you have to come home for a visit soon! Miss you! Call me! Bye!" Ridley said, before snapping her cell phone shut and slipping it back into her jean pocket. Shaking her head, she continued down the sidewalk and adjusted her grip on her umbrella; if there was one thing she hated about Gotham it was that when it rained, it poured. And it never seemed to want to stop.

Coming to the end of the block, Ridley came to a stop, tapping her nails against her umbrella's wooden handle, and watched the street sign across from her, waiting for it to change from stop to walk. As she stood there, she thought back to the reason she had called Rachel in the first place; out of nowhere she had remembered that day back at Wayne Manor. It had been nearly ten years ago and out of the blue, she just remembered. It was one of those things she put in the back of her head and figured she'd never think about again. Well, she also figured she'd never swim in the same circles as Bruce Wayne for as long as she lived. But now, she wasn't just swimming, she was with him; going to lunch and dinner, showing up on his arm at events and was slowly letting him in to her life more and more. Maybe it came to her because she was annoyed and disappointed in him—she definitely felt that way about him that day. He had cancelled on her for a third time that week. Third time! And this time, Ridley didn't head back to her apartment after canceling their dinner plans, instead she added two extra seats to their table and took the girls out for dinner. So her date night became girls' night: Arielle, Jayden, Paige and herself all wound up at the table Bruce had called and reserved for the two of them. They had fun, a lot of fun, just sitting around talking, laughing and having a few drinks. But throughout dinner, Ridley couldn't stop herself from wondering just why exactly she had been cancelled on again. Bruce hadn't given her much of an excuse, just that there something he needed to take care of and he couldn't make it. At least it was better than the night before, he had Alfred call for him. Shaking her head, several damp curls fell down into her face and just as she reached up to brush them away, the signal changed from that stupid hand to the person walking. Several people who had crowded around behind her, brushed past her and one even shoved her, sending her into a puddle.

"Lovely." Ridley muttered, taking a deep breath and striding through the crosswalk before the sign changed back to 'don't walk' and tried to ignore the cold water slowly seeping into the sole of her shoe. The four of them had all walked to the restaurant, _Del Luna_ wasn't too far from the gallery and since Jayden and Paige lived close enough to one another, they caught a cab together and Arielle caught a separate one, heading to the train station; she lived across town. Ridley had driven to work and left her car parked along the sidewalk near the gallery, she didn't mind the walk, just the rain. Her wet high heels clacked dully against the drenched cement and as she rounded the corner, the gallery just in sight, Ridley swore she heard something. A whine, more like a whimper or a cry of pain. Like something wounded or scared would make. Backing up, Ridley retraced her steps and peered down the alley she had missed while passing through. How could she have missed that? The wet stench of garage hung in the air and nearly gagged her as she slowly crept down into the narrow space between the two brick buildings.

"Hello?" She called out softly, trying to see just what had made that sound. "Hello?" The second time she heard it again and hurried further into the alley. Behind a large dumpster, leaning heavily against the damp brick wall, with her knees drawn up under her chin was a young woman, probably no older than twenty. Still a girl, well to a thirty year old woman like Ridley she was. Her wet blonde hair hung in wet clumps around her face and she was holding her tattered and torn clothes to her shaking body. Her bottom lip was split, she had a black eye and a gash in her hair line, turning her wheat colored bangs a shocking shade of red. In the dim light given off by the street lamp, Ridley made out dark splotches running the length of her pale legs; they were bruises. Finger shaped bruises. Ridley felt the bile rise up in the back of her throat; she didn't want to think about what she knew had happened to her. Kneeling down in front of the younger woman, Ridley slowly shucked off her damp coat and draped it across her shivering shoulders.

"My name's Ridley and I'm going to get you some help. But first, are you all right?" She asked her softly, knowing it was a stupid question. The young blonde looked far from all right.

"No."

"What happened? Did you see who did this to you?" Ridley pressed, as she pulled the small packet of tissues out of her purse and handed them to the girl. Gently, she dabbed one against her still bleeding lip, cringing when she winced. "I'm sorry."

"Its all right, thank you."

"You're welcome." The two lapsed into a silence for a few seconds. They had to be the longest seconds of Ridley's life; time had never dragged by so slowly for her before. The rain seemed to slow up in the alley, but every so often a chilly drop would roll down her spine and she'd shiver. But she wouldn't dare think to ask for her coat back, the poor girl was barely holding the remains of her blouse on.

"I was…was walking home…from work…" The younger woman said after what felt like an entirety. Her voice broke every few words and more tears escaped from her eyes, Ridley handed her another tissue. "…and these…these two men…they grabbed and dragged me in here. One took my purse and the other…he…he…" The flood gates burst and the tears just kept coming. Wave after wave. Ridley felt her heart break. Without even thinking, she reached forward and pulled the blonde into her arms, letting her cry on her shoulder. She shuddered; she didn't even want to know what happened to her. It was horrible and those two men must've gotten away, seeing as they were long gone. Her father was the Mayor and things like this still happened in the city. Probably daily too. Her heart broke a little more with each sob.

"It's all right, I'm going to get you out of here." Ridley told her, pushing her back just enough to see her face. "What's your name?"

"Kim."

"All right Kim, did you remember what those men looked like? Which way they went?"

"They didn't get very far." Kim said, wiping her eyes with a new tissue. "He got them."

"Who's he?" Ridley asked, arching an eyebrow. There was no one else in the alley when she came down. She hadn't seen or heard anyone else. So who was it. Watching her, Kim raised a shaky hand and pointed over Ridley's shoulder. Standing up again, wiping at her damp knees, Ridley turned slowly on her high heel and gasped when she saw what exactly Kim had pointed at. She couldn't believe it, it had been a year and she never really paid much attention to the stories. Sure, things on the streets had changed but she never believed. Never believed they were real. Never believe _he_ was real. The Batman. He was standing in the shadows, so if he had been there the whole time, Ridley never saw him. She could barely tell where he began and where the shadows ended. As he took a step out of the shadows, Ridley took one back. She wouldn't deny it, he scared her. If he could scare thugs on the street, he could scare her. Scare the hell out of her, more like it.

"I found them. The men that did this to her." His voice was deep and gravely sounding. It sent chills down Ridley's spine and not the good kind either. She nodded numbly. It was all she could do at the moment. "They won't be doing anything like this again."

"Where are they?" Ridley asked, finally working up the courage to speak.

"Tied up further down the alley."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Her voice cracked somewhere between a scream and a whimper of defeat. How could he do nothing? He was supposed to be defending the city!

"I won't be do anything more than I already have, you'll be doing the rest." He said simply, as if she was supposed to know that already. He took a step closer to her and Ridley forced herself not to back up one herself. Another step from him, none from her. Another and none. It continued this way until he was only a pace or two away from her. Taking another deep and shuddering breath, she squared her shoulders and looked up at him. He was so much taller than her, it frightened her. The feeling of being small, looked down upon and almost inferior scared her to no end.

"And what exactly will I be doing?" She challenged.

"Call the police Miss Bishop, do the right thing. You want to do something about this, make the phone call."

"How do you know my name? And what am I supposed to do?"

"You're the Mayor's daughter, you're able to do things others aren't."

"And what are those things? Things like you do? Fly on rooftops and bring down the mob and petty thugs?" He shook his head at her, as if she was missing the point and for a brief second, she caught his eyes. There was something so familiar about those eyes, but what? The thick black grease paint he wore around them was throwing her off, but she knew something. There was something. Just a small something she seemed to be missing.

"You can get things moving Miss Bishop, you can get things moving that I can't. Make the phone call and ask for Lieutenant Gordon." He stared at her for a long minute, long after he finished saying what he had to say and inside, Ridley felt like shrinking into the ground. She had never been 'examined' so closely before. It was like he was looking for something. Just like she been doing to him before. "Remember Lieutenant Gordon." He said. It was a split second, she had looked down to grab her cell phone and when she looked back up, he was gone. Just like that. The Batman had disappeared. Blinking a few times, trying to see if she was seeing things, Ridley stared at the spot he had been standing in. Nothing. He was gone. Behind her, she heard Kim struggling to stand up and spun around to help.

"He vanished." Kim muttered, wrapping her arms tighter around her chest.

"Yeah, he did." Ridley whispered as she dialed the number for the Gotham Police Department. After three long rings, a dispatcher picked up. Ridley had never been happier to hear someone pick up a phone.

"_Gotham PD."_ A man said.

"Yes, Lieutenant Gordon please."

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_--So, throughtout writing this chapter, I knew I wanted Ridley to meet Batman. I hope he came out all right. Or at least_ 'right church, wrong pew'_ close enough. And I threw some more Rachel in there, just because I did see the movie and felt like I needed a little more Rachel here (for those of you who have seen it, that's not really spoiler-ish is it?) Anyways, I know all the OCs in a Batman story usually recongize him or think they might and I know I did it, I didn't know if I wanted to, but let me know what you thought of that part. And no, I did not want Ridley to be some damsel in distress in the alley scene, so I wrote it a lot differently that I originally planned on writing it. There was a lot more damsel-ing in the original, but I changed it. And I like it this way. I hope you guys do too! God, I'm in the mood to talk tonight, shutting up now. haha--B.E_


	6. Cancelled

**Short note this time guys, thanks to everyone who reviewed! As usual! And thanks for not giving up on me, since I took so to update. Also, thanks to hairymayojar for the inspiration I needed. You guys'll see that in the next couple chapters. This is the only Fanfic I've ever outlined and its gone so far off the outline, I guess I learned not to do things like that way ahead of time. All right, still keeping it short. Thanks again! Keep reading and reviewing! And don't be mad at Ridley for what happens in this chapter, I'll make it better soon! Promise! Haha. –B.E  
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**Chapter Six- Cancelled  
**  
The fireproof lined door finally slid open; he had only been waiting out in the hall for ten minutes. Bruce Wayne smirked; in front of him stood Ridley Bishop, dressed in what appeared to be 'work' clothes. A pair of paint splattered jeans, a white tank top and bare feet. Her dark hair had been swept up into a messy ponytail and had several paint brushes in various sizes perched behind both ears. And she was glaring daggers at him.

"What are you doing here?" She snapped, folding her arms over her chest.

"You look nice this afternoon." Bruce said calmly, with a slight smile on his face. Sometimes she was infuriating but she wouldn't be Ridley without it. "What are you working on? Oh, these are for you by the way." He added, handing her a dozen purple calla lilies. Keeping that furious look in her eyes, she leaned down and inhaled the lovely scent the flowers gave off. One quick phone call to her older sister and Bruce knew which flowers would be the best to get back on Ridley's good side.

"Thank you for the flowers, but back to my first question. What are you doing here and who let you up? Security didn't buzz me."

"Will you let me in and I'll explain. Everything." He tried, hoping he'd get her to lose some of the hostility she was using against him. A second later, Ridley sighed and spun away; her bare feet smacking softly against the cool floor that ran the length of her upscale loft apartment. Sliding the door shut behind him, Bruce watched her in the kitchen. She was pouring water into a vase for the flower and once that was done, she scooped a remote up off the counter and turned the music back on. That explained why he was out in the hall for so long; she hadn't heard him. He could barely hear himself think over that noise. Loud punk rock roared from the speakers she had mounted in various spots throughout the apartment.

"Can you turn that off Rids? I'd like to talk to you." Bruce said to the back of her head; she had already gone back to her work space and put her back to him.

"It helps me work, so no." She answered back, plucking one of the many brushes out from behind her ear. His dress shoes made a clacking sound as he walked up behind her, a gentle hand on the small of her back and peered over her shoulder, trying to get a good look at her newest painting. She fascinated him, she really did. He had never seen a person paint before, it was oddly beautiful. From what it looked like, she was painting a still life. Bruce's eyes darted over to the dry sink counter across from Ridley and found the items she had chosen to paint: a long strand of white pearls had been wrapped around a jeweled hair clip in the shape of a butterfly and placed on top of a tin watch box, next to that was a pair of classic black high heels and she had a crème colored silk and lace dress draped across the counter, still on its hanger and hanging from the shelf just above it. The items she had picked reminded him of things he would've found on his mother's side of the master bedroom when he was a child.

"That's a beautiful set up, Rids. Where'd you get all those things?"

"They were my mother's and please stop calling me Rids." Ridley snapped, shrugging his arm off her shoulder and reached for a thicker brush she had in a can sitting near her easel. Before her finger tips barely grazed the lip of the can, Bruce's hand shot out and caught her by the wrist. Her eyes darted down to his hand and then back up to his face before she started tugging. "Let go, now." She ground out, her jaw clamped tight.

"Ridley, what's wrong? I just want to talk to you."

"Oh! Now! Now you want to talk? Are you sure you don't want Alfred to call me and talk for you?" Oh, he had forgotten about that.

"That's what I came…"

"Came to what Bruce? Make it up to me like you were supposed to make up Tuesday night to me? Only you cancelled, then you said you'd make it up Wednesday, but you cancelled again! And then, then you didn't even have the…the…the…" She paused, her free hand flailing around wildly as she searched for the word she needed, "…the balls to call me yourself on Thursday! You had Alfred call me and tell me you couldn't come, something came up at work and you were sorry for the past three nights! Jesus Bruce!" Ridley exploded, glaring at him for all she was worth.

Bruce had been afraid of her acting like this; he knew she'd be upset with him. He was upset with himself, he hadn't meant to cancel on her but there were other _priorities _to tend to. A bank robbery, another strange calling card left behind at the crime scene and then he had found that young woman. Where he had found Ridley helping her. The look she had given him, had given Batman, was still playing in a loop in his head. A mix of fear, disgust and anger. It wasn't at all what he had expected from Ridley. The feeling of her shoulder slamming into his as she plowed past him was more than enough to jolt him from his thoughts. His eyes followed her as she stormed across her apartment, going over to what appeared to be her office. A large wooden desk sat behind a hand painted folding screen that divided that section of the room. She came back a second later, a cigarette in her mouth.

"What Bruce?" She snapped, glaring at him once again.

"Let me explain this time, please." He said, walking over to her and standing right in front of her. This was not the same woman he had seen in the alley only two nights before, she was something else.

"Fine, you've got five minutes."

"Only five?"

"I have paint laying out, so yes only five." She muttered, leaning down and tapping the end of her cigarette out in the ash tray on the coffee table. Shaking his head, Bruce reached down and slipped the cigarette out of her fingers, stamping it out a second later. "What was that for?"

"I'd like your undivided attention. And it's a disgusting habit." Ridley snorted, halfway smirking and looked away from him. That was a good sign.

"Fine, you've got my attention." She muttered, as Bruce stood back up and grabbed her gently by the upper arms, his thumbs skimming over her bare skin. Neither said anything for a few seconds, until Ridley cleared her throat. "Four and a half minutes Bruce."

"I know that Rids. But about this week, I am sorry about what happened; it was work. New clients, new paperwork and all that. You understand don't you? Your father owns his own company. Don't be angry. It was just a crazy week." He said softly, hoping she'd believe him. He had barely stepped foot in the office all week, only going in when they actually needed him there for important meetings. Everything else Lucius took care of or called him about. "Let me make it up to you."

"Bruce, I'm not a new client you have to impress by taking me places and when you cancel on me, you can't just 'make it up'. It doesn't work that way. We've been seeing each other for a month now Bruce and I've barely seen you." Ridley said, backing out of his arms and scrubbed a hand across her face. "I spent my entire childhood being cancelled on by my father, I hated it then and I hate it now."

"So let me make it up to you, we'll go out tonight, whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" She asked, arching a dark eyebrow at him.

"That's what I said."

"Fine then, I have plans. Sorry." Ridley told him before turning on her heel and sweeping back into the kitchen. Bruce just stood there, staring after her. That was new. Straightening his tie, Bruce took a deep breath before following her. It was probably the last thing she wanted from him, but he had to make sure he heard her right. Had she…she had, hadn't she? Done the same thing he had to her? Ridley was standing in the middle of her stainless steel and chrome kitchen, leaning back against one of the granite counter tops with her arms folded over her chest.

"Ridley." It was more of a statement than a question and she glanced his way.

"Bruce, please. It's been a month…a good month. I…I…I like you, a lot, it sounds childish I know, but…I need some time to think about things. Please?" She was begging, almost. Nodding curtly, the sound of his shoes against the tiles seemed louder than before as he made his way over to her. Bruce put one hand on her hip, gently kissed her cheek and with his other hand, stroked her jaw. "I'll call you, in a few days."

"All right Ridley. Take your time."

"Thank you Bruce." She smiled somewhat and he gave her half of one back.

"You're welcome."

Bruce was out the door before Ridley could say anything to stop him or to change her mind. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a long second before pushing herself off the counter top and strode back to her easel. Grabbing the stereo's remote, she changed the track and turned it up a little louder until the sound of Mötley Crüe's cover of 'Anarchy in the UK' echoed throughout her loft.

Saturday night melted into Sunday morning, which then breezed right into Monday. On Monday, Ridley left three messages with Alfred, two on Bruce's cell phone and sent him an email. Tuesday, exactly one week after he first cancelled on her, she called him down at Wayne Enterprises and spoke with his secretary Jessica four times that day. Nothing. Jessica had promised to pass her messages to him, but apparently he either never got them or wanted nothing to do with them. Wednesday she tried email again, even a text message and Alfred. Nothing. Wednesday afternoon, she went down to Wayne Enterprises herself, only to find out Bruce had called in sick and any and all phone calls were being directed to Lucius Fox. Wednesday night, she called the penthouse again and spoke with Alfred again; Bruce was sick with something and was too ill to come to the phone. So she passed along a 'get well soon' and hung up before asking Alfred if he could ask Bruce to call her. By Thursday at five-twenty six in the morning, she gave up.

Sitting in a back booth at the Starbucks just around the corner from her apartment building, staring into a cup of coffee, Ridley raked a hand through her hair. It was still Thursday morning, just three and a half hours earlier she had given up on calling Bruce again. It was useless; she had made a mess of everything. She thought she'd be smooth and give him a taste of his own medicine. Oh he tasted it all right, tasted it enough to realize what an idiot he had been by even bothering with her in the first place.

All around her, the coffee shop buzzed with simple, everyday morning activity: people rushing in and out, going to work and picking up their regular jolt of caffeine before heading to the office while others seemed to just make their way around somewhat sluggishly and waited for their coffee to wake them up. Slowly sipping her now cold coffee, Ridley sighed before dropping her head onto the table top. What was she going to do now? About Bruce? Had they broken up? Probably, she would've broken up with her for the way she had acted Saturday night. She could see the headlines now: _Gotham's Golden Girl Ditches Playboy Prince! Smart move or Big mistake? _

She banged her head against the table this time. This was a huge mess, one big mess and she had made it. This was why she stayed away, why she didn't get involved. It was why she stayed away in general.

The sound of the chair on the opposite side of the table scraping against the floor startled her. Looking up, she pushed her hair out of her face and felt a slight smile tug on her lips for the first time in days.

"Morning Ridley."

"Hello Harvey."

* * *

_What's going to happen to Bruce and Ridley?_

_What about now, with Harvey?_

_Is Rachel coming home?_

_I don't even know yet._

_The whole idea for this chapter was kinda sprung from reading something someone on LiveJournal wrote about the scene with Bruce and Rachel and the whole thing about her being with him once Batman wasn't needed anymore. It was kinda mushy and here we are.  
__  
This story--when I first started it--was mapped out all the way up to the fourteenth chapter. Now? Now, its so far off from what I originally planned that I kinda like it a lot better this way. And yes, I did jump a month in time. I figured since I hadn't updated in a while, that a time change was needed. So I guess this now takes place before TDK, kinda like leading up to it. Just don't ask where or if the Joker plays a role in it, I have no idea yet. I just make it up as I go. I have some music in this chapter, I figured 'Anarchy in the UK' was fitting, after seeing the new movie and all. That and I had it on when I came up with the idea for this chapter. Also, the whole chapter was written while listening to 'Kiss the Sky' by Motley Crue. After the tenth time on repeat, the lyrics just started to fit the way the chapter was going. I think that's enough from me. I hope you all liked this! Let me know what you think!--B.E_


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